


Water

by sophiahelix



Series: Elements [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sexual Inexperience, Virgin Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/pseuds/sophiahelix
Summary: When it finally happens, Victor has already taken off his socks. “I feel better with bare feet,” he sighs, lying across the end of the bed as Yuuri closes the door.Yuuri believes him. Victor always seems more comfortable naked; long limbs sprawling under the water of the onsen, the twist of his supple back, his toes pointed as he stretches. His body is beautiful, inhabited, possessed. It's like Yuuri can see every graceful move Victor’s ever made, glowing in an aura around him. Of course Victor wants his socks off. Victor makes everything seem easy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about exploring a dynamic for these two since I started watching midseason, and am finally making it happen; this is the first of a planned three short stories in a series. Thanks to shdwsilk for the excellent and helpful beta.
> 
> Edit: I've now made [a playlist](https://playmoss.com/en/sophiahelix/playlist/elements) of music for this series.

When Yuuri comes home from Moscow, they take it slow.

A kiss, a touch. Victor’s hand sliding beneath Yuuri’s shirt, advancing, retreating. Yuuri’s knee pressing between Victor’s thighs, up, up, before he draws it down again. They lie on Yuuri’s bed and kiss until Yuuri can't breathe, until it feels like he's slipping down into endless warm water, brought to the surface again by Victor, always Victor.

November passes and December begins. Training and working, running and skating, the air growing colder and the bright leaves falling from the trees. Victor collects them in handfuls, marveling at the reds and yellows, and keeps them in jars in his room. They curl and fade, turning brown and brittle, but Victor still finds them beautiful. He smiles at Yuuri when he says it.

In the evenings they have dinner with Yuuri’s family and any visiting friends, Minako-sensei or Yuuko and the girls. Happy noise flows through the room like a river; food and television, rattling plates, guests at the hot springs talking and laughing. Yuuri grew up here but it felt like it never really touched him, as though he lived in some cool, remote place of his own, away from the water of life.

After dinner they go upstairs and take it slow, night after night. 

It's all new to Yuuri. The having, the wanting. He's spent his life making his body strong and useful, but this is a use he hasn't tried. Tremors go through his body at Victor’s touch, his look, and Yuuri has to hold his breath, hold himself still, letting it happen. Victor’s warm lips at his jaw. Yuuri’s fingers gliding over the nape of Victor’s neck, bare and smooth. 

Yuuri wants, but it's so difficult, learning how to take. He has to close his eyes, easing himself in. His heart beats so fast and so heavy in his chest, and he yearns towards Victor, longing for the intimate heat of their bodies together. It's so much, though, and the nights slip by, as they move closer with tiny, delicate steps. Victor kisses his temple as he goes, leaving Yuuri stirred and aching before he sleeps.

When it finally happens, Victor has already taken off his socks. “I feel better with bare feet,” he sighs, lying across the end of the bed as Yuuri closes the door.

Yuuri believes him. Victor always seems more comfortable naked; long limbs sprawling under the water of the onsen, the twist of his supple back, his toes pointed as he stretches. His body is beautiful, inhabited, possessed. It's like Yuuri can see every graceful move Victor’s ever made, glowing in an aura around him. Of course Victor wants his socks off. Victor makes everything seem easy.

When Yuuri lies down on the bed, Victor takes his socks off too, one at a time, smiling up at him. Victor’s hair falls across his face, in his eyes. Yuuri would like to brush it away, but then Victor’s leaning down and pressing his mouth to Yuuri’s foot, warm against his instep. 

Yuuri’s breath is a trapped, tiny thing, fluttering against his parted lips. 

“Victor,” he says, softly, and it feels like the only thing he's ever said to him. Just Victor’s name, that one word that's meant everything to him for so long, made new again.

Victor looks up again, still smiling. He's holding Yuuri’s bare foot with one hand, and he slides his other under the loose cotton of Yuuri’s pants, the flat calluses of his palm moving over the light hair on Yuuri’s leg. He doesn't look away. It makes Yuuri shudder, feeling Victor’s hand tucked beneath his clothing like that, Victor’s strong and slender fingers caressing his calf. Victor’s touched him here before but never like this, warm and secret in Yuuri’s own bed.

“Do you like that?” Victor asks, as if he couldn't tell. He wants Yuuri to say it.

“Yes,” Yuuri breathes. He's up on his elbows and he lets his head drop back, closing his eyes. There's rain falling outside the window, rattling on the roof and the pavement below, and his own breath is so loud in his ears. The charcoal heater in the corner hums, heating the air. Victor keeps moving his hand up, pushing past Yuuri’s knee, brushing the cap of it with his thumb before he moves higher, to press his fingertips into the muscle of Yuuri’s thigh.

“Oh,” Yuuri says. “ _Oh_.”

This is nothing. This is everything. The rain falls and the light is low in the room and Victor’s hand is warm and firm on his thigh, under his pants. Slow heat creeps into his cheeks, because Victor is looking at him and Yuuri knows what he sees. How much Yuuri wants.

“What do you want?” Victor asks, softly.

Yuuri takes in a shaky breath, and then another. He closes his eyes tighter. Victor has given him so much, offered so much more, but Yuuri’s still learning how to ask, how to even know what he needs.

“Touch,” he says, and licks his lips. “Touch me.”

“Where?”

He lets out a soft groan, frustrated. With himself, and with the way it seems he's moving through slow, heavy water, his desire dim on the horizon.

“Yuuri,” Victor says, that soothing, chiding tone he takes when he's trying to help. He shifts on the bed, moving closer, and puts his hand on Yuuri's chest, stroking. “It's all right. It's only us.”

Yuuri shifts too, all his weight on one elbow as he reaches for Victor’s hand. He clasps it tight, squeezing his eyes shut even more, and takes a deep breath. Then he moves Victor’s hand down.

He hears Victor make a small, soft sound, fingers shifting on his thigh. His heart beats so hard in his chest it hurts, and he knows his grip on Victor’s wrist is too tight. Together they move over his stomach, the waistband of his pants, and then — 

“This is what you want?” Victor asks.

Yuuri can only nod, breathing too fast to speak.

“All right, Yuuri,” Victor says, quietly.

His touch is so soft, through the cotton of Yuuri’s pants. His thumb, a gentle brush. Yuuri lets out a sharp noise and then bites his lip, trying to still the sudden jerk of his hips. Victor keeps his other hand where it is, curled around Yuuri’s leg, but he moves his fingers to stroke the tender skin of Yuuri’s inner thigh. 

Yuuri’s face is hot, his shoulder aching from leaning on it so long. He groans and then gives in, letting go of Victor’s hand to lie flat on the bed. 

“Please,” he says, an exhaled sigh. “Please, Victor.”

Victor pauses, and Yuuri can feel him looking, thinking. There's always so much going on in Victor’s mind, though the things he says are light, casual, confident. Yuuri knows him now, far better than he ever imagined he would, but there are still so many closed doors behind Victor’s eyes.

“Yuuri,” he says. “Look at me.”

It's an effort, but Yuuri does. The light is behind Victor and it's hard to see his face, just the illuminated halo of his pale hair. He's beautiful, though, because he's always beautiful, and Yuuri reaches up before he thinks to touch his face, cup his cheek. 

Victor smiles, leaning into it. “Stay with me.”

Yuuri nods, murmuring assent.

He watches, as Victor touches him. It's almost unbearable; the seriousness of Victor’s downcast eyes, and his slow, careful fingers, stroking over and around, up and down. He's so aware of Victor, more even than the sensations in his own body. Victor caresses Yuuri’s thigh once more and then withdraws his other hand, reaching up to push aside Yuuri’s shirt. He bends his head, mouthing a soft kiss against Yuuri’s stomach.

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes, and touches Victor’s shining head. 

Desire moves through him, a warm, living thing. He takes hold of Victor’s shoulders, pulling, and Victor looks up at him.

“Come here, please,” Yuuri says, answering the question in his eyes.

Victor moves up, lying alongside. His hair falls in his eyes again and this time Yuuri does brush it aside, tenderly. He strokes Victor’s face, resting his hand against his cheek, his thumb along the beautiful hollow of it. His breath is so quick and shallow, with Victor looking at him like this, but Yuuri makes himself keep looking back. 

Yuuri leans in, with small, halting moments. This feels like a first kiss, like all the touches between them before were only the beginning, like he's making something new for the first time. Taking what he wants, shaping it with his desire. Victor keeps his eyes half-open as Yuuri comes closer, and the light in them is the last thing Yuuri sees before their mouths meet.

It's soft and tender, the touch of Victor’s lips beneath his. Yuuri knows his taste now, and the way Victor will wait just a moment before pressing in closer, like he wants to linger in the space between. It’s a shock and a dawning light, every time, to have Victor like this. Yuuri kisses him, cradling his face, feeling like he’s caught a handful of starlight in his hands, a dream that could fade as soon as he opens his eyes.

Victor slides his cold foot up Yuuri’s shin, under his pants. Yuuri startles, pulling back.

“Mm, you’re warm,” Victor says, with a slanting smile.

Yuuri laughs, small and surprised, and kisses him again.

Now Victor moves his hand up to Yuuri’s bared hip, resting flat against his stomach before pressing down. He slides the tips of his fingers under Yuuri’s waistband, flicking his tongue against the underside of Yuuri’s lip. He opens his mouth, letting Yuuri in, and moves his hand lower.

And Yuuri can’t stop now. He kisses, and he breathes, and he waits, and it happens. 

There’s Victor’s hand, cool against his warmth. There are Victor’s fingers, gentle and clever, touching him so he gasps, just slightly, against Victor’s mouth. Victor’s voice, low and reassuring, as he takes hold and moves. 

It’s slow, and it’s a fire uncurling, and Yuuri clings to Victor, one hand moving to the back of his neck and the other coming up to grip his arm. They’ve been traveling to this place for so long, and now he feels like he’s fully submerged, the world quiet and strange around him. He can only breathe in Victor, feel Victor, here with him in this bared and intimate moment. 

He widens his knees, pressing against Victor’s body. He can feel, under his thigh, where Victor is warm and hard, and it sends a shudder through him. Victor is _here_ , with him. They’ve gone under together, looking at each other through the low, filmy light of this new world.

Yuuri keeps kissing Victor, a rough edge to it now. This will end too soon, he knows. Victor moves his hand slow and steady but the flame is unquenchable, burning through Yuuri, his body shaking and tensed. It’s too much to make this last, too hard to stay here in this thunderous moment. He has to get through to the other side, learning himself again and coming up on the far shore.

Victor tightens his grip and Yuuri cries out, his hips tilting up. He digs his heels into the bed, his fingers into Victor’s arm, gasping at the air between their mouths. He’s so hot all over, his cheeks and beneath his shirt, sweating along his hairline, and now Victor leans back, looking at him. Yuuri burns hotter, meeting those cool eyes, knowing and seeing him, and he doesn’t hold back. 

“Victor,” he breathes, groaning. “I — please. Finish — “

Victor smiles. 

He shuts his eyes when it happens. He’s lost for long moments, tumbling through the dark, something deeper than physical release happening to him. But the press of Victor’s body against him is stone and bedrock, soft comfort and hard truth. He’s not alone. 

When at last he surfaces again Victor is kissing his face, lips cool along his brow. Yuuri can feel how sweaty his hand is on the back of Victor’s neck, the wetness beneath his clothes, where Victor is still holding him, and he huffs out a rueful laugh. 

“I’m sorry for the mess,” he says, against Victor’s throat. 

“You were beautiful,” Victor says, and kisses him again. He draws back. “Besides, you can’t be afraid of a little mess in life.”

Yuuri looks up, his fingers still tangled in Victor’s hair, thumb on his throat. This is his new life, his new self. Blood pulses through every part of his body, and it feels like he could fly, walk on water, anything he likes. “Then let me make a little more.”

He feels Victor’s laugh as much as he hears it, a warm rumbling through his chest. Victor presses a kiss to his mouth and then rolls over, easy and graceful, tucking one hand behind his head. He arches up, stretching, and Yuuri watches, looking over his body. 

It's hard to know where to begin. Yuuri finally starts where he always starts. “Victor,” he says, almost whispering, and raises a hand, reverent, deciding. 

Victor smiles, wider. “That's good,” he says. “Surprise me.”

This is where Victor always starts, too. A few words, a look, and then he steps away, letting Yuuri find his own way forward. Sometimes Yuuri wishes it could be different, maybe easier, but everything with Victor feels huge and thrilling and new, like he's up in the sky with the world below him, trying out his wings for the very first time.

“Ah,” he sighs, and chooses a place to land.

He strokes down Victor’s chest, feeling the firm flatness of his belly through the rough cotton of his shirt. Farther down, over the hollow between his hips, drawing in with Victor’s breath. And then — 

Victor makes a sound, low and warm, that goes straight to Yuuri’s own belly. Victor stretches beneath him, curving his spine, and Yuuri’s pulse pounds in his ears, sweat breaking out along his shoulders. He bites his lip and stares so hard at what he's doing that it burns between his eyes; the rushing intensity of this moment, the heat surrounding his hand as he pushes beneath Victor’s waistband.

He feels Victor’s gaze on him, gentle but steady. Yuuri swallows and keeps moving, easing into this like everything else. Victor sighs into his touch, and he could stop here but he doesn't, making himself go the last distance. 

This is nothing like he expected. This is exactly like he always knew it would be. Under his fingers Victor is hot and alive, more than anything Yuuri has known, smooth and firm and waiting for him. He makes tiny, careful movements with his thumb and fingertips, still biting his lip, and Victor brings up his hand to cup Yuuri’s face, the way Yuuri did a little while ago.

“See?” Victor says, softly, as Yuuri learns him by touch.

His ears are ringing. A wave of strangeness passes over him, one he hasn't felt since last spring; Victor here, Victor with him, Victor speaking to him with that kind, teasing intimacy in his voice. Victor laid bare, even though he's only taken off his socks, because Yuuri chances a glance at his face and it shows — everything. He's back in the sky again, wings braced against all the cold strength of the wind, and Victor is the wide world below. 

Yuuri kisses him.

It's easier then. Real life, rough edges, Victor smiling against his mouth. Yuuri’s elbow is bent at a bad angle and he shifts, adjusting. Wetness beneath his palm. Strain in his bicep as he moves, searching for a rhythm, until Victor makes a soft _oh_ under his kiss. Familiar sensations, growing heat, Victor shifting beneath him and spreading his legs wider. 

The air changes. Victor isn't smiling now, watching him and standing apart, but clinging, breathing hard. Needing. His fingers close around the material of Yuuri’s sleeve, and he stops kissing back, leaning up instead to press his forehead against Yuuri’s. He moans, low, and Yuuri can feel the strain in his neck, the tension in his belly and thighs.

“Good,” Victor says, short and panting. “Harder — again — “

For a moment Yuuri does, tightening his grip and moving faster. But something creeps into him; a longing to make this last, to keep Victor unmoored and unbound. To hold onto this strangeness, staying in this underwater world. 

He slows, languid and langorous, loose and sliding. Victor gasps slightly, a groan beneath his voice. “What — “

Yuuri leans back enough to smile at him. “Surprising you,” he murmurs.

Victor gasps again, and his fingers dig into Yuuri’s shoulder. He doesn't say anything more, but his eyes are shut tight, and now he tips his head back on the bed. Yuuri leans in and kisses his throat, greedy for the smoothness of Victor’s skin beneath his lips, the real Victor of bone and blood, breath and want.

He doesn't make him wait long. Yuuri tightens his hand again, moving faster, and Victor’s breath catches in his chest, his hips straining up. It doesn't take much, just a kiss and a twist of his wrist, his knee sliding over Victor’s thigh to hold him down, and then Victor jerks in his arms, Yuuri’s name a breath on his lips before he cries out, so loud Yuuri’s ears burn. He buries his face against Victor’s neck and feels it go through him, trembling and shaking, shocking hot wetness spilling over his hand. _I did that. I made that._

Victor is himself again, almost too soon. Yuuri feels him laugh beneath him, and then Victor’s hand comes up to stroke through Yuuri’s hair, tugging a little at the ends.

“Well,” Victor says, and his voice is so hoarse. “Consider me surprised, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiles, against his chest.

And the rain keeps falling, and the charcoal heater fills the room with warmth, and they're both still clothed, except for their socks. In a week, they fly to Barcelona. 

_Stay here_ , Yuuri wants to say, but he doesn't, because of all that it would mean. Because he doesn't just mean tonight. Because he doesn't know how much of Victor he's allowed to keep.

“Maccachin will be lonely in your bed,” he says, instead.

Victor stirs beneath him, stroking Yuuri’s back now, between his shoulder blades. He lets out a long, soft sigh.

“I know how that is,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [sophia-helix](http://sophia-helix.tumblr.com)


End file.
